Sula pulled a U-turn on Chambers and headed up the steep grade. She cursed out loud at the slow-moving van in front of her. She was not in a hurry to confront Rudker-he scared the hell out of her-but she was anxious to get the evidence that could hurt Tate out of her hands.
The road curved at the top then dropped sharply down to Lorane Highway. Sula turned right. On this side of the hill, city gave way to country. Houses were father apart, vastly different in size, style, and age, and set back from the road. Under different circumstances, she would have taken her time to enjoy the scenery. Instead, she pushed the truck and took the curves faster than the posted sign allowed. The road sloped gently downward, then the grange appeared on the left. Sula pressed her brakes and took the turn in a wild swing. For a second, she felt as if the truck were out of her control. It straightened out and she vowed to keep her speed down.
McBeth Road wandered past a shooting range, then headed sharply up into the south hills. Sula spotted a group of cyclists in bright yellow-and-black jerseys pumping their skinny asses up the steep curves. She slowed and gave them a wide berth.
At the top of the hill, she turned on Fox Hollow, then made a quick left into the parking lot of the volunteer- manned fire station. No firefighters lived or worked there, only engines occupied the building. She left the truck running. It seemed important to be able to leave in a hurry.
As Sula sat and waited, a cloud drifted in front of the sun. Her skin cooled and she shuddered. She couldn’t believe it had come to this. Rudker had actually threatened her son. He was clearly more desperate and unstable than she’d imagined. For the first time, she realized Rudker might be planning to harm her. Dear God. Would he?
Sula turned on the heater, then looked behind the seat of her truck for a possible weapon. A tire iron stuck out from under a plastic Fred Meyer bag. She grabbed the iron and laid it on the seat next to her envelope. After another minute, her cell phone rang. Her hand shook as she answered it. “Yes?”
“Put the envelope on the concrete near the doors and drive away.” He sounded so serene, almost cheerful. Sula wondered about his sanity. “Then forget about all this. It’s the safest thing you can do.”
She hung up on him. She would comply with his demand because Tate’s life was at stake, but she would not forget. Sula grabbed the FDA package and the tire iron, just for security, and scooted out of the truck. She crossed the gravel and stood on the concrete pad in front of the big overhead doors. Her hands held tightly to the envelope, creasing the edge. Letting go of the evidence she had worked so hard to obtain was not easy.
Sula tried to think of an alternative. A way to beat Rudker at his own game. But the risk to Tate was always there. She set the package down and hurried to her truck. Before getting in, she looked around to see if she could spot his car parked somewhere, but the road curved in both directions and the pine trees were thick on either side of it.
Small sobs bubbled up in her throat as she drove back down McBeth. She vowed to write it all down when she got home, every detail from the very first conversation she’d overheard to her last exchange with Rudker, including his threats to her and Tate. Next she would give two copies of the document to her lawyer, with instructions to turn one over to the FDA and one to the police, should anything ever happen to her.
She would also track Nexapra’s development and approval. When the first wave of suicides hit the press, she would send a copy of her testament to the media. By then, Rudker would be too busy fending off bad publicity and lawsuits to come after her.
Sula suddenly realized she was moving too fast for the next curve. As she lifted her foot to hit for the brake, something slammed into the back of her truck. She flew forward into the steering wheel. Her nose smashed against it, blinding her with pain. She bounced back and her foot slipped off the brake. Sula struggled to orient herself, only to realize she was headed straight, while the road curved sharply left. She found the brake again but it was too late.
The truck was airborne.
Chapter 31
Rudker saw Sula’s truck leave the road-heading straight out into a space between two tall fir trees-but he missed what happened next. First, he had to yank his own steering wheel to keep from careening over the edge and following her down the mountain. He pressed the brake to get control. The Taurus fishtailed and nearly took out a group of cyclists coming up the hill on the opposite side of the road. Several of them deliberately ran their bikes off the asphalt and into the drainage ditch to keep from being hit. He could hear the bikers shouting obscenities at him as he sped away. He hoped none had gotten a good look at him or noted the license plate.
If not for the bikers, he might have gone back to see where the truck landed. He hadn’t intended to slam her so hard. He only meant to run her off the road and scare her, so she’d realize how serious he was about stopping this nonsense. But the other had grown excited by the pursuit. The voice egged him on with aggressive taunts: Show her who she’s dealing with. Smash her now! You know she won’t give up.
Rudker had no regrets though. He had warned her and she had brought this on herself. On some level, he knew he would be relieved to read in the paper tomorrow that Sula had died. The little boy obviously had other parents, responsible people, unlike Sula. So the boy would be all right without her. Sula’s file at Prolabs indicated she had no immediately family, so there was no one to feel her loss or get worked up about her accident.
She may not be dead. You may have to try again. The voice would not give him any peace.
For a long moment, Sula was suspended in air, wrapped in a vacuum of silence and disconnected from reality. Her one thought was: Tate has good parents. He’ll be fine without me. Then gravity took over, sucking her down. Sula’s stomach heaved.
The truck landed on a small pine tree that snapped like a pencil, then bounced hard on the ground. Sula flew up, but her seatbelt held. She clung to the steering wheel as if it would save her. The truck’s second contact with the ground was not as smooth. It hit something big and hard and flipped upside down. Her head smashed into the roof as the truck landed and rolled.
It kept rolling, knocking her head and torso around the interior-smashing her against the door, the steering wheel, the windshield. She closed her eyes against the flying glass shards and thought, this is it.
The truck lost some momentum, and the rolling took on a surreal slow motion. With one last jolt, accompanied by a loud whack, it abruptly stopped. Sula opened her eyes to discover the truck was on its side, the driver’s side door smashed against the ground. She did not move except to take several long deep breaths. She could not believe she was still alive.
A moment later, she became aware of the pain. In her head, her shoulder, her left arm. She had to get out, to seek treatment, but how? She seemed to be up against a giant fir tree, with a trunk big enough to nearly cover the windshield, which was no longer there.
Before she could give it serious thought, a trickle of warm blood rolled into her left eye. Sula wiped it away and refused to think about its source. She knew she had cuts, scrapes, and bruises, but nothing felt broken. She hurt everywhere, but not in a way that made her think she might die. Her fingers went to her seat belt. It had saved her life.
Cautiously, she unbuckled it and her body slumped against the door. A sharp pain in her shoulder made her re-evaluate her condition. Still, she had to crawl out of the truck and get up to the road where she could get help. The truck’s front seat was standing straight up from the ground. She reached up and grabbed the edge of it with her left hand and the passenger’s seat belt with the other. Twisting out from under the steering wheel, she pulled herself upright until she was standing against the door.
Once she was up, Sula realized the tree didn’t entirely cover the windshield and there was room to squeeze out. She noticed her keys in the ignition and pocketed them. Her purse and cell phone were nowhere to be found. Careful to avoid the chunks of glass still clinging to the perimeter of the windshield, she stepped over the steering wheel and brought one leg in contact with the ground. The truck shifted with the redistribution of weight. Sula froze, waiting to make sure it was stable. With a hopping motion, she pulled her other leg through and landed face down on the ground.
A bed of pine needles cushioned her fall, but her shoulder screamed in pain. For a minute all she could do was take deep breaths to keep from crying out. Heart still hammering, Sula struggled first to her knees, then to her feet. She turned back to the truck. The roof of the cab and the canopy were both crushed, but the front end was
